


Turn Around And Take My Hand

by shadesofhades



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fisting, Author was slightly drunk, Barebacking, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Kinktober, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rosebuds/prolapse, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 06:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16236509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofhades/pseuds/shadesofhades
Summary: "You have surgeon's fingers, Trap. They've been inside people plenty of times."





	Turn Around And Take My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. I haven't written this kink in probably ten years. 
> 
> Sorta mildly embarrassed by how much I enjoyed this and how much it's probably going to horrify fandom, but... I just see these two as being super kinky together. I mean, they are perverts (and I'm a pervert too, so yay).
> 
> Title taken from Stinkfest by Tool.
> 
> Beta and opening line prompt by Annabeth_at_the_helm.

"You have surgeon's fingers, Trap. They've been inside people plenty of times."

Oh sure, he operated on plenty -- the last several months he had lost count of the times he'd been elbow deep inside a retracted bowel, or an open chest cavity -- but that was not what Hawkeye was asking for here.

He wasn't asking Trapper to tickle his tonsils or applique his name on his appendix. What he wanted -- Trapper wasn't even sure there was a name for this particular deviancy, because anyone who would want that would have to be off their nut. Hawkeye had always been somewhat suspect, but this went so far beyond.

“Hawk, are you sure there wasn't somethin’ in your sake?”

They were drunk. These days they often were, but this was the particular brand of drunk they could only be in Tokyo. The kind of drunk that lasts three days and usually ended up with you tossing your cookies on a glorified stewardess on your flight back to Seoul.

Hawkeye had his wrist clutched in his hand and he was eyeing his fingers with a lust that had Trapper's cock starting to swell despite Hawk's suggestion.

“You've had your fingers inside me before,” Hawkeye pointed out.

He had, more than once, but it had been as a precursor to the main event and not the star of the show. It had always been quick and out of necessity, just enough to make their quick fuck possible without hurting either of them. He never had time to leisurely finger Hawkeye open and let him enjoy the act as he apparently wanted. 

He had no idea Hawkeye even enjoyed it so much. He had always been in as much of a hurry to get it over with as Trapper, so he had assumed it was just something that needed to be done, not something he wanted to have done to him.

Was it really that great? Trapper had never actually experienced it himself -- the idea didn't really do anything for him, but maybe he was missing something if Hawkeye was acting so desperate for it.

Hawkeye let go of his wrist and took Trapper’s fingers in hand. His fingers gently massaged his, starting at the first knuckle of his index finger, the tendon rolling over the bone with each light push of his fingertips against the joint, and slowly he worked his way down to the tip before he moved on to the medius.

“I've thought about it for months,” Hawkeye admitted, and there was a puff of moist, hot breath against his fingers as Hawkeye dragged them upwards to get a better look. “Your fingers are so _long_ , and your palms are so _wide_.”

A shiver rolled through him and when he glanced down he could see how hard Hawkeye was, his dick tenting his boxers out and leaving a dark stain across the front. Just thinking about what he wanted was apparently enough to get him excited -- what would he look like if Trapper finally gave into Hawkeye's desires?

Hawkeye laid a kiss in the center of his palm, his lips wet against Trapper's sensitive skin. He expected him to pull away after, to beg again, but instead his tongue darted out, licking a long stripe from the inside of his wrist to the tip of his middle finger, his skin tingling at the sensation. He had never thought hands could be an erogenous zone before, but the feeling was sending waves of pleasure down his spine. 

Fuck. His head rolled back and he had to take a deep breath as Hawkeye's tongue dipped between his fingers, wetting the soft flesh there. 

Trapper’s disappointment was fleeting when Hawkeye pulled away to push the front of his boxers down below his balls, his erection springing upwards as it's freed. It's already full and dark with blood, a collection of pearlescent drops leaking out of the tip and slowly dripping down the shaft. They hadn't even done more than exchange a few thorough kisses, but it was clear that even the thought of Trapper's fingers inside him was getting him so turned on he may come before they ever get the chance to practice what he seemed to so desperately ache for.

Was he really going to do this? It seemed dangerous and crazy, but the fevered look in Hawkeye's eyes was making him anxious and excited for what came next.

He had been surprised their first time together how eager Hawkeye was to take his cock -- he had thought that they would go slow, that maybe they would never even go that far, but it had been Hawkeye's suggestion. He had looked on Trapper's cock with enthusiasm and hunger and he couldn't say no.

Some women had complained about his large size before, even his wife on occasion, but Hawkeye couldn't seem to get enough. Trapper had never been with another man before -- not like that anyway (mostly just a tentative handjob during pre-med that they both denied later, and on one occasion an enthusiastic blowjob he had given to the captain of his football team when he'd been too drunk to think better of it) -- so he didn't really have anything to base it on, but Hawkeye's behavior oftentimes struck him as strange and more than a little deviant. They were both perverts, but Hawkeye seemed to own a lot more real estate in that market than Trapper thought was possible.

Trapper was pulled out of his musings by the sight of Hawkeye tossing aside his shorts and clamoring to his knees in front of him, his head bowed as he wobbled unsteadily on the center of the bed. 

They'd fucked in this position before -- with Hawkeye on his hands and knees in front of him -- but it had made sex seem impersonal, like Hawkeye could have been anyone below him and he had never really liked it like Hawk did. But now, this somehow seemed so intimate that Trapper felt his cheeks grow hot as he stared down at Hawkeye's ass on such prominent display.

Trapper was still wearing his undershirt and shorts, but Hawkeye didn't seem to mind that he was overdressed.

“What do I do?” Trapper asked uncertainly and Hawkeye glanced back over his shoulder at him.

His cheeks were flushed, either from the alcohol or arousal. When blue eyes met his, Trapper was willing to bet the latter as his pupils were blown so wide his irises disappeared like barely there halos.

“Finger me,” Hawkeye said, his voice deep and husky and nearly breathless. “Fuck me open with your fingers. Fuck me. Make me take them all.”

Trapper felt a hot trickle down his spine at the words, heat pooling in his groin and spreading upwards as butterflies danced in his belly. Hawkeye didn't just want this, it seemed more like some kind of deep seated _desperation_ \-- a kind of burning need to be filled up by him -- and damned if Trapper didn't have a sudden intense desire to give it to him.

Hawkeye tossed a bottle behind him and it took him only a moment to recognize the oil that Hawkeye had purchased on the strip hours earlier. 

“Use it all if you have to, just fuck me, please,” Hawkeye begged, his legs shaking as he pressed himself backwards towards Trapper.

A bottle like this could last them months if used wisely, but Trapper had the feeling that Hawkeye knew from experience what he needed for this task.

Had some other guy done this to him before? Or maybe… maybe Hawkeye had done this to _himself_ at some point.  
Trapper shuddered, pushed the distracting thought from his mind and opened the oil. He poured a little in the center of his left hand and slowly coated the fingers on his right, warming the chill liquid between his fingers as he rubbed.

He didn't stop until they felt good and slick, then he inched forward, left hand lightly gripping Hawkeye's flank as he circled one finger around his the darkened skin of his entrance. 

It was just a teasing touch, his fingers leaving a glistening trail over the short curly hairs that grew thicker where his fingers slipped and his hand dipped down towards his sack. He took a moment to right himself, the alcohol in his system making him less than coordinated, but he regained his senses.

They shouldn't be doing this. They were both drunk, and Trapper wasn't sure he wouldn't hurt Hawkeye. 

He glanced down to where Hawkeye's face was buried in the bedspread. To tell the truth, it didn't look like Hawkeye even noticed the slip of his hand. Maybe he was at that numb sort of stage of drunk.

Trapper eyed the bottle of scotch on the nearby nightstand and wondered if maybe his problem was that he wasn't drunk enough. Not yet anyway.

He reached for the bottle and Hawkeye sat back on his heels, watching him. His fingers were still slick with oil, and the bottle nearly slipped out of his hand before Hawkeye grabbed it and opened the cap, taking a swig before he offered the bottle to Trapper.

He wondered if Hawkeye was more sober than he thought, because his hand was steady as he brought the bottle to Trapper's lips and held it as Trapper drank deeply.

It was more than he had planned on taking, but Hawkeye pulled the bottle from his lips with a grin before he kissed him, alcohol still burning on his tongue, and Trapper was suddenly fine with the hot trickle of alcohol that made its way to his stomach.

“Needed some liquid courage?” he asked, eyes as heavy as the cock that lay between his legs.

Trapper licked his lips, and tried to ignore the sudden ache in his own.

“Yeah,” he agreed, before he laid another short, quick kiss to his lips, then grabbed Hawkeye's hips with unsteady hands, trying to reposition him.

Hawkeye didn't need to be told what to do, obeying without a word, his breath shaky as his cheek once again found the mattress. 

Trapper's movements felt slow as molasses, and his brain was starting to fog over, but he was pretty sure it was the only way he could give Hawkeye what he was begging for. 

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and drew two fingers down Hawkeye's crack, trying to coat the tightly clenched muscles there with lubricant before he attempted a second try. This time, he was less hesitant, two fingers pressing against his muscles before it gave way beneath his fingers, and they sunk easily into the tight heat of his body.

Christ.

His dick twitched at the sudden intense heat, and he wanted so badly to pull his fingers away and fuck Hawkeye into the mattress, but that's not what Hawkeye wanted.

Wanted. This seems to be beyond want and was moving into need and Trapper didn't really understand why, but mostly, he wanted to make Hawkeye happy. He always wanted to make him happy.

He scissored his fingers apart, the muscles catching on his fingertips and stretching. This was familiar at least, and he was rewarded by the feel of Hawkeye pressing back against his hand in eagerness, his fingers slipping deeper without his permission.

The palm of his hand looked huge over the width of Hawkeye's cheek and for just a moment he thought he understood Hawkeye's need for this, because his cock was dripping precome and his brain was marveling at the idea that it could possibly all fit inside Hawkeye's lithe body. 

He squeezed gently before his fingers wandered to his hip, an iron grip forcing Hawkeye to still as he cautiously added another finger. They pressed against Hawkeye inner walls, and there was fleeting concern about nails biting into soft tissue, but then Hawkeye groaned and turned his head and Trapper could see his flushed cheeks and how red his lips looked.

He could barely hold back a moan of his own, realizing that Hawkeye's teeth had worked his lip raw already in desperation and Trapper hadn't even done anything yet.

He swallowed and released Hawkeye's hip so he could reach for the oil, drizzling more down the crack of Hawkeye's ass until it felt unbelievably slick. 

The last long drink of scotch had left him numb and unfocused, but he knew, subconsciously, that there was no way he could do this without a lot more of the slickness currently running down the inside of Hawkeye's thighs.

His scrotum glistened in the low light of the hotel room, and Trapper couldn't resist pulling his fingers free from the cradle of Hawkeye's body to fondle his balls. There was a noise that seemed trapped somewhere between pleasure and frustration, and Trapper couldn't help but grin to himself before he released Hawkeye and caught the falling drops of oil attempting escape with the tips of his fingers.

This time, he didn't hesitate before he pressed the tips of four fingers into a tight square and forced them back inside Hawkeye. His body took them easily, sliding down to the second knuckle before he met any kind of resistance. He spread his fingers, Hawkeye's insides soft and warm and far too inviting as he slowly forced the muscles encircling the his fingers to relax beneath his touch.

He never thought he would actually enjoy this, but the dark spot on the front of his boxers begged to differ and he could feel shame roll over him even as he sunk deeper into Hawkeye's willing body. There was a shiver of excitement that went through him as his fingers were lost to the third knuckle within the grip of Hawkeye's body and he started to wonder how much more Hawkeye could really take. 

He had said he wanted it all, but his muscles were already taut and discolored around the width of his hand and his irregular breaths filled the quiet of the room. 

Could he really take it all? Trapper's whole hand and maybe more? The muscles were made to stretch, but he wasn't sure there wouldn't be lasting damage if he kept going. As a doctor, logic told him to stop, but as a man, his brain begged him to continue, to stuff Hawkeye as full as he could.

He bit his lip before he pulled out just enough to slide his thumb in alongside his other fingers.

The pressure was unbelievable, and he was almost afraid that he might lose circulation in his fingers where they were squeezed within the vise of Hawkeye's body, but he had come too far now for that to stop him. 

There was a cry that fell from Hawkeye's lips as his knuckles caught on muscles already stretched too far. Hawkeye was shaking beneath him now, and Trapper could feel him coming apart at the seams.

He should stop, but Hawkeye was squirming on his fingers and jamming him hips backwards, rocking desperately on his fingers and suddenly there was a soft pop and Trapper's hand slipped impossibly deep.

“Oh, god,” he groaned, his eyes slipping shut as Hawkeye continued to rock backwards, and Trapper didn't need to look to know how hard he must be, because he could feel the drops of warm precome hitting his bare knee where it was tucked in between Hawkeye's thighs.

“Fuck,” Hawkeye breathed, and the word unraveled whatever resistance Trapper still felt, his hand sinking deeper into the silky heat that surrounded it until Hawkeye's muscles were clenched tightly around the wide circumference of his wrist.

He glanced down at Hawkeye's face, still pressed into the mattress, and there was a certain feverish look in his glassy eyes as he stared up at Trapper, his bottom lip swollen and red, bitten almost bloody.

He looked as desperate as Trapper was beginning to feel. He swallowed and stared down at where Hawkeye's muscles stretched around the thick girth of his wrist and wiggled his fingers. Hawkeye gasped and panted and Trapper wondered if this could really be enough to make him come, if Hawkeye loved being stuff full of his fist so much that he was really actually getting off on it.

He let go of Hawkeye's hip, reaching down to grab his dick and give it a tug. It was hard and hot in his hand, and he had no doubt that this was as pleasurable for Hawkeye as it sounded. There was another gasp as Hawkeye forced his hips backwards again and Trapper's hand sunk deeper.

Fuck. If they kept this up his hand would be in Hawkeye's stomach soon.

Hawkeye panted in pleasure, his cock twitching under Trapper's hand and he wanted to watch him come, he wanted to watch Hawkeye lose it, but he was torn. His own cock ached between his legs and he was sure Hawkeye wouldn't last much longer.

The decision was made for him when Hawkeye rocked his hips and rubbed his cheek against the bedspread, his breath growing rough as he begged,

“Fuck me, Trap. Fuck me.”

The words had never sounded so obscene coming from those pleasure swollen lips and Trapper didn't need to be told twice.

Carefully, he hooked a finger in alongside his wrist and pulled the muscles loose, his hand slowly slipping from the embrace of Hawkeye's body. It snagged momentarily on his knuckles before his hand pulled free and Hawkeye's ass gaped wide open, his insides red and glistening as they followed Trapper's fingers out. They bloomed from his body like a rose, before Hawkeye shuddered and Trapper guiltily pushed them back inside with the poke of a finger.

He'd seen insides before, it was a hazard of being a surgeon, but they'd never seemed so obscene and sexual before. 

They went easily inside and he watched, fascinated, as Hawkeye's muscles worked to close, but don't quite manage and suddenly his ass looked so empty and used that Trapper wondered how Hawkeye must feel, if he felt the same sharp pang of loss that Trapper did, or if he just felt the greedy need for more.

His cock was aching, and he didn't think he'd even be able to get his shorts off without losing it. Instead, he reached down and pulled his cock free from the confines of the cotton and implored his legs to hold out just a little longer as he scooted across the bed so his body could fit against Hawkeye's.

He didn't wait for a signal, he was pretty sure Hawkeye was too far gone to give one, instead he gripped the base of his dick in one hand and Hawkeye's hip in the other before he pushed inside.

He expected Hawkeye to be loose, for it not to be as pleasurable as it had been before Trapper had his entire hand inside him, but Hawkeye’s inner walls squeezed him tight, and Trapper knew before he was even balls-deep that he wouldn't last long. 

As eager as he was, Hawkeye was more so, forcing his pelvis tight against Trapper's before he could get barely an inch of his cock inside. He gripped Hawkeye's hips, and willed himself to calm down or he wasn't even going to get more than two thrusts.

Sucking on his bottom lip, he partially pulled out before he brought Hawkeye's hips quickly back against his, the steady sound of flesh hitting flesh satisfying as he set a brutal pace that Hawkeye met.

There was sweat pouring down his face and his back as he pistoned his hips, the bed beneath them creaking with their effort. Hawkeye's breathless gasps were coming quicker, and Trapper knew he ought to reach down and jerk Hawkeye off, but his eyes were starting to roll back in his head and his own chest felt heavy as he sucked in breath. He could barely manage to stay upright behind Hawkeye as it was.

It turned out a helping hand wasn't needed, because there was a rumble of sound that seemed to start at his toes and travel through his entire body before it escaped his throat and suddenly Hawkeye was going rigid beneath him, his body tightening around his cock.

Oh, fuck. 

That had never happened before, and Trapper only had a moment to blink the sweat from his eyes before he slammed into Hawkeye's body and came.

Hawkeye went limp beneath him and Trapper knew if he didn't let him go that he'd follow, so he let Hawkeye drop bonelessly to the bed as his cock slipped from inside him.

There was the brilliant red of Hawkeye's insides slipping out again as his body attempted to push out the semen that Trapper had left deep inside him. A little trickled out, but mostly it stayed just inside, the milkiness of his come in stark contrast to the inside of Hawkeye's abused ass.

He should feel guilty, because he understood what that meant as a doctor, that Hawkeye's muscles were weak and that there was a good chance that it could be permanent, but Hawkeye was staring at him with a grin and his thoughts wander instead to the sated look on his features.

Trapper couldn't help it. He offered a crooked smile back before he leaned over and kissed Hawkeye's lips. 

There was the metallic tang of blood, and the familiarity of it was almost enough to break the moment between them, but then Hawkeye's hand slid around his side and yanked him down to the bed and suddenly the thought of blood and medicine were the furthest thing from his mind.

\-------

There was a noise somewhere to his left, a hiss like air escaping a balloon before it ended in a loud static of white noise.

Fuck.

It felt like the skin was peeling from his eyeballs as he pried his eyelids opened, then immediately regretted it when he was blinded by a painfully bright light.

He groan and covered his eyes.

“What happened last night?” He heard someone ask, and it look a moment to process the fact that the voice belonged to Hawkeye.

He groped towards the voice, unable to open his eyes as he found a warm, not fully clothed body beside his.

He chanced cracking open one eyelid to stare over at Hawkeye. He was nothing more than a blurry shape before Trapper's eye focused and he could see just how unclothed he really was.

Prying open his other eye he glanced down at himself. Not nearly as naked, though his dick was hanging out of the fly of his shorts.

If he had any doubt that they had drunken sex last night, that pretty much proved it. Not that he had anything against drunken sex, but it was nice to actually remember if the sex had been any good.

“I'm guessing we never made it to the geisha house last night,” Trapper said as he slowly leaned up onto his elbows and attempted to tuck himself back into his shorts. 

They hadn't even cleaned up last night. He was still slick with oil and he had a come stain on the front of his boxers.

He looked over at Hawkeye, wondering if he felt as terrible as Trapper. 

It only took him a second to realize he felt ten times worse.

“I have this vague recollection of begging you to fuck me with your fist last night,” Hawkeye said, and the way he squirmed in discomfort made Trapper feel guilty, because as soon as the words left his mouth some disjointed half-remembered images of his hand disappearing into Hawkeye's body like some kind of perverted magic trick floated unbidden to the surface.

Hawkeye squirmed again, and it was obvious he was struggling to get comfortable, which only served to make Trapper feel more guilty because suddenly his dick was starting to get hard as he remembered the way Hawkeye had begged and how hot and tight he had felt against his fingers.

It had definitely been Hawkeye's idea, but Trapper was starting to remember how eagerly he had participated. Even if Hawkeye had wanted it, he shouldn't have done it. He should have thought of the consequences of their actions. 

Mainly, he should have thought about the fact that Hawkeye had the lowest pain tolerance out of anyone he'd ever met and that when in pain he became the world's largest baby.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Hawkeye yelped as he attempted to get up, then immediately fell back to the bed and onto his ass, which made him gasp in pain.

“Stop yelling,” Trapper complained with a groan and clutched his throbbing head. If it was any consolation to Hawkeye, he was pretty sure his brain was hurting just as much as Hawkeye's backside. “My brain feels like it's gonna pound right outta my skull.”

“At least the brain you usually think with seems to be just fine,” Hawkeye said pointedly as he glanced down at Trapper's cock, tenting out the front of his shorts. Hawkeye reached out and poked it.

“Careful, Hawk,” Trapper warned him, sucking in a deep breath as his dick and his brain momentarily argued. His dick won, getting harder as Hawkeye's fingertip caressed the head through the thin cotton. “Wouldn't wanna start something you can't finish.”

“Who said I can't?” There was a wince even as he said it, but then Hawkeye laughed and leaned over him, his hand lightly gripping his cock through his shorts.

A shudder went through him and Hawkeye's lips closed over his.

He could feel Hawkeye grin against his mouth before he released Trapper's dick and his fingers wandered lower. Trapper spread his legs without thinking, his breath hitching when Hawkeye's fingers ran down his crack and pressed forward against his entrance. Even through the thin cotton Hawkeye's probing fingers feel hot and hard and Trapper's breath felt shaky. 

Hawkeye caught the elastic waistband of his shorts and started to pull, and Trapper obediently lifted his hips so Hawkeye could pull them down. His dick sprung free and there was a feeling of relief as cool air hit his overheated flesh, but then Hawkeye grinned again as his fingers walked back to between Trapper's open legs to rub against his entrance again. It felt even better without the barrier of his shorts, and he'd never really wanted to do this before, but it felt good and he thought that maybe Hawkeye could make a case for it.

“You know,” Hawkeye said casually, and instantly Trapper knew what ever came out of his mouth was going to be far from casual, “you're not the only one with surgeon's fingers, Trap. Mine have been inside plenty of people too.”

Trapper could feel his eyes go wide with panic, the words sounding eerily familiar as more parts of last night came back. 

Hawkeye laughed, long and loud, before Trapper knocked him off the side of the bed. He stumbled and fell flat on his ass with a howl of pain. Trapper felt guilty until Hawkeye began to laugh again.

“That's not funny, Hawk.”

Even as he said it, Trapper couldn't help the small smile that spread across his lips and pretty soon, he was laughing too.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr @captaincaptaincupcakethings


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